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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142777">Nightmares of Nature</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cococape/pseuds/cococape'>cococape</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricwaves/pseuds/electricwaves'>electricwaves</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>After Grisha Trilogy, After Six of Crows, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Canon-Typical Violence, Dream Smp, Dreamon, Family Dynamics, Fantasy AU, Fjerda, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, Ketterdam, Light Angst, Magic, Platonic Relationships, Ravka, Rebellion, SBI family dynamics, War, dream smp au, dream team, fictional characters, grisha - Freeform, grishaverse au, powers, sbi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 12:02:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,388</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142777</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cococape/pseuds/cococape, https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricwaves/pseuds/electricwaves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Grisha are those born with the ability to control the elements and beyond.</p><p>Techno is the prince of Fjerda, a country of snow that abhors the thought of the Grisha, who are seen by his people as demons and false gods. After discovering his own Grisha powers, he embarks on a quest to win the mercy of his father and his people.</p><p>Dream is the prince of Ravka, a land that accept the Grisha as allies and citizens. His dazzling life within the Little Palace covers the darkness he hides within himself, the remnants of a curse passed down from his ancestors in years past.</p><p>Both are on a mission to redeem themselves...</p><p>But one might not come out alive.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cara | CaptainPuffy &amp; Niki | Nihachu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He wasn’t supposed to exist.</p><p>This was an indisputable fact that he’s known for as long as the crown prince of Fjerda could remember, and it was a thought that coursed through his head as he dragged his feet through the snow-covered field that separated the Ice Court from his escape, the flurry around him biting at his face and turning each muttered curse into puffs of fog. </p><p>This epiphany of his didn’t come from a past of rumours, of his parents and unloyal lovers, nor did it come from a miracle following siblings he’d never met. His lineage was as set in stone as the sun is destined to set in the west, and his parents had been adamant that he has always been, and will never be less than their eldest son, fated to inherit the frozen throne.</p><p>No, his life is more complicated than that, for the truth was harsher than the wind that fought against his efforts to leave, colder than the blue fur coat he used to shield his face from the oncoming storm. </p><p>It was a secret that the gods themselves would kill him for if they’d ever found out, would turn the country into anarchy if it was ever revealed to the public.</p><p>And as his lantern finally lit the dark metal bars of the gates that separated him from his people, he remembered the spark of the flames that would surely mark his end, gods forbid if his family ever found out.</p><p>Perhaps, he mused, as he hauled his pack over the bars and began to climb over himself. Perhaps, if he were found and tried, his father would grant him an honourable execution, instead of the spectacle that he often created of the prisoners in the trials under the palace. </p><p>Perhaps then his peace would be swift, unlike the witches that make a mockery of the natural world that he’s always known.</p><p>The pack fell to the ground with a soft thud as the prince hopped over and joined it in the snow, landing with far less grace than he’d hoped, frowning as his hood came loose from the fall, inviting the frost to come crawling up his neck. Sitting up with a scowl, he ruffled the ice out of his rose-stained hair.</p><p>His eyes reflected the glittering midnight landscape as they raked over the plains of white, his bones aching with the bitter cold and the realization that, for the first time, he was... free.</p><p>Free and alone in his northern kingdom of ice and snow. Free and alone in a castle more quiet than the subdued calm of the only home he’d ever known.</p><p>The nearly imperceptible crunches of the snow was what made his head perk up in alarm, the disturbance in the silence almost deafening, echoing throughout the dark of the trees as he cautiously stood up and looked around.</p><p>But whether it was the darkness or the white that blinded him, it did not matter. He — perhaps one of the most valued men of Fjerda — was left vulnerable in the harsh snowy landscape of the blizzard season, with no guards to protect him. </p><p>In other words, he might as well be asking to be kidnapped by Ravkan spies before he could find a way into their borders himself. </p><p>The thought made him chuckle quietly, before he picked up the soft sound of footsteps once more, just as the wind turned the rustling trees into a monstrous roar.</p><p>Adrenaline kept him sane and still as he spun wildly around, searching for the intruder with nothing but his wits to keep him safe.</p><p>Or, that was how he appeared to be.</p><p>He watched his breath fog up the air before him as he clenched his free hand into a fist, feeling the absence of something that was always there, ever-present for him… until now.</p><p>The quiet made it easier.</p><p>“Whoever is out there,” he called, the monotone warning carrying around the walls of the woods, waking even the smallest of spirits who slept within its crevices. “Show yourself. I mean no harm.”</p><p>Silence greeted him, every second making him more anticipatory, filling his mind with a wild paranoia, of the tales he was told as a child. </p><p>So when he felt the steady beating rhythm course through the air and echo through his bones, he didn’t hesitate, body reacting out of an innate instinct he never knew he had.</p><p>He spun, his hand reaching into nothing, seeking the <em> pulse </em> of the heartbeat, and once found, hooked his fingers and pulled, feeling the cord of vibrations turn into something that fluttered with the wings of a moth against his palm, of warmth kindling inside his veins—</p><p>“<em>Techno! </em>”</p><p>—Or of the fragile, familiar body of a sparrow, whose silent scream mimicked the gasped agony of his name from an ally, a companion, a friend of the world outside.</p><p>Startled, he let go as he stared down at the man he’d spared, feeling the control snake away alongside the Heartrender power burning away his insides, a temptation that called to him like a siren’s song, a grinning demon waiting to strike a deal. He felt it recede back into the fissures of his mind and let out a singular, pained gasp. </p><p>“You’re late, Wilbur Sut.” </p><p>The prince crouched down to offer help to the peasant man who took it gratefully, a hand still clawing at the heart the royal nearly stopped only moments before.</p><p>“You’re early,” Wilbur corrected, pulling himself up with a groan. </p><p>“Those are the same thing, are they not?”</p><p>The man shrugged, the corner of his lips raised in the slightest of smirks. “Maybe in the Courts, they are.” He coughed as the cold air rattled his lungs, the pain ebbing away. “But that would never fly in the villages around here.”</p><p>“Of course.” The Rose of Fjerda gave the slightest nod in apology, a hint of a smile playing into his reply. “I’ll remember to keep that in mind.” </p><p>“You’d better.” Wilbur laughed, as he shrugged off his leather pack, and began to pull an equally dark cloth from its seemingly infinite depths. “I wouldn’t like to be known as the bard who travelled with the crown prince of Fjerda on a death mission to Ravka.”</p><p>“Whyever not?” Curiosity laced Techno’s voice as he unbuttoned his furs, bracing himself for the infamous cold he’d only ever read about. “I’d imagine it would make your stories quite the tale.”</p><p>“Well,” The bard mused, unfolding the dirty cloak in his hands, letting the edges catch in the wind. “It would be quite difficult, innit? To continue to tell stories when all they’ll ask is about the…” He hesitated, giving the prince a mischievous grin, “<em> The Tales of the Witchling Prince. </em> I think that has quite a nice ring to it, don’t you think? Anyways, are you ready yet?”</p><p>“Almost, Almost.” The aristocrat sighed, a trembling hand gripping the corners together, shoulders tense with anxiety.</p><p>“It truly isn’t that cold—”</p><p>“And I’ve practiced multiple times,” Techno waved the concerns away, the fear rolling like a storm in his veins. “I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“And yet you’ve only ever succeeded once.”</p><p>Instead of a reply, the prince scoffed, rolling the golden pin between gloved fingertips before reaching into the dark, and dipping his hand into the cursed pool of magic he found within.</p><p>The effect was immediate. Every cell in his body sang as he let out a shaky laugh, power rushing through his blood, chasing his fears away. It was exhilarating, to feel the hum of the living like the soft purr of a cat, a buzz that filled his entire being with strength, filled his mind with hope and possibility—</p><p>In a panic, he shook the thoughts away. Were such ideas the malice that entered the minds of the false gods that called themselves Grisha? Were they what brought them their ideals, their uncontrollable thirst for violence? </p><p>He let the tension leave his muscles as he focused on shrinking his blood vessels, feeling warmth enter his numbing fingers and toes as he let go, allowing the snow to attack him in full force without ever feeling the cold they brought with it.</p><p>And when — with a startled yelp of alarm — Wilbur brought the tattered thick skin down onto his shoulders, the Heartrender ceased his invisible craft, feeling the icy air freeze his skin and flush his cheeks as his power bubbled away, leaving him drained, exhausted, and cold.</p><p>What was it, that the witches say? Techno tried to remember as he tied the string around his neck and pulled the hood over his head.</p><p><em> Like calls to like </em>.</p><p>The Rose of Fjerda was nothing like those demons in human skin. And he would do anything if it would give him even a crumb of proof to show his father.</p><p>Even if it would mean death to the Prince of Ravka. </p><p>“I’ve booked a room at the local inn for the night, one for each of us,” Wilbur continued, beginning to walk once he made sure that his future king was safe. “I’ve left my belongings there for a lighter journey down the mountain. I’d think that even if we didn’t spend the entire night there, then at least some warmth and comfort would do us some good before our great adventure.”</p><p>“That would be nice, yes.” Techno said, breathing hot air onto the palms of his gloves as he followed close behind, missing the bright cloak he’d exchanged for a skin that smelled like dust, and the light of the hearth that he replaced with the feeble lantern flickering in both of their hands.</p><p>“Perfect!” Wilbur’s clap was muffled by his woolen gloves, and yet still the prince winced, hearing how audible it was in the silence of the powder under their feet and the roar of the wind above their heads. “And when we come home, I’ll have my songs to perform and—”</p><p>It wasn’t the crunch of the snow but the shadow that loomed large over them that stopped the boys in their tracks, that made the Heartrender curse himself for not paying attention to the unfamiliar heartbeat that danced in the air with their own, in the steady and calm of a soldier.</p><p>It was the click of the gun that caused them both to flinch and turn slowly, sweat slicking their skin as they turned to greet the voice who followed them.</p><p>
  <em> “What are you doing."</em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Rage coloured his vision red as his heart hammered in his throat, each beat darkening the thunderstorm roaring in his head. A puppeteer from hell tugged at his limbs, forcing him to raise his blade and point it at Sapnap’s chin, compelling every nerve in his useless vessel to set aflame with need. The air carried a breeze which sang of death, lulling him into a stupor, telling him to plunge through whatever stood in his way. </p><p>His friends were not exceptions.</p><p>“Dream!” A pair of hands pulled at his shoulders, and before he could even take another step, cold metal encased his wrists. Icy clarity washed away the boil in his blood, allowing his burning eyes to finally close as his knees gave in.  </p><p>“Dream, can you hear us?” </p><p>He blinked. He was on the ground. Why was he on the ground? </p><p>“George? Sapnap?” </p><p>Two silhouettes encased him in shadow, saving his foggy gaze from the afternoon sun. Raising an arm to wipe at his face, he stopped, seeing as he couldn’t whilst being shackled. </p><p>“It happened again,” Sapnap said, his nervous laughter fooling no one. </p><p>“I can see that.” </p><p>George outstretched a gloved hand. “We definitely still need to work on your control, then. You held back in our other duels, but I guess it must’ve run thin just now. A new record of five fights in a row, though. That’s good, right?” </p><p>“I guess it is.” Dream felt numb, even as his best friends pulled him up and off of the cobblestone. He would never not be numb. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Hey,” Sapnap smiled, a genuine smile that was all teeth and almost hurt to behold, “it’s okay, Dream. How many times do we have to tell you? We know you’d never hurt us on purpose.”</p><p>“He’s right, you know.” George gave him a few light pats on his back, then looped Dream’s arm around his neck, and for a handful of moments, the burden atop his back loosened. </p><p>“I’m sure he is,” he murmured. </p><p>George nodded, despite seeing through the prince’s bullshit. “Besides, we know that the chains make you tired. There’s no point in staying down here. Let’s get you back up to your chambers.”</p><p>“Yeah, let’s go!” Sapnap took his place at Dream’s other side, both he and George cradling one of Dream’s arms around their shoulders, the three of them acting as a tightly-knit wall while they hobbled across the courtyard and into the palace. “Patches will be there, too. Don’t you wanna see her?”</p><p>Dream managed a tired jerk of his head. “Of course I do.”</p><p>“That’s what I thought. It’s not all your fault, by the way; I was having an off-day today. I could’ve taken you if I went down the Grisha route. I’d just go full Inferni and roast you like a duck.” </p><p>He barked out a sharp chuckle and wheeze, George joining in on the fun and jabbing the Inferni in the ribs. Dream only shrugged as best as he could. “Whatever you say, Sapnap. Sure.”</p><p>It was nice to drown everything out with laughs.  </p><p> </p><p>— : —</p><p> </p><p>The feeling of something warm and alive purring underneath hands that Dream could not always steer was not one he could ever get used to. It was a universal fact that animals could see into the true hearts of people. If someone was truly malicious, their soul would reflect their intentions and drive creatures away.</p><p>This little tidbit was one of few that Dream could add to his miniscule collection of fragmented hopes. Maybe he wasn’t completely unredeemable. Maybe he wasn’t a genuine monster if a cat, an honest and untrusting animal, could somehow trust him and meow at him and claw at him as if he were any other human being. </p><p>He never took his mask off except for when he was in the sole company of Patches. Animals were not as judgemental as people, and he’d never hurt his feline friend before, unlike his human ones.</p><p>For as long as he could remember, the prince of Ravka was always told one thing — a mantra that pulsed through his skull as he weaved through even the worst of life’s intricacies.</p><p>
  <em> Learn to control yourself.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Learn to hide the darkness inside, so others don’t get hurt.</em>
</p><p>That wasn’t a thing you tell a child. </p><p>But he wasn’t any mere child. </p><p>He might have been born with eyes that mimicked the sea at dawn, a smile that drew naivety with its every curve, a collection of constellations that sprinkled his face and arms, and a nest of wild golden-copper hair that marked every Lanslov he could memorize, all of these features making him out to be an innocent, mundane child if not for one tiny detail...</p><p>He was cursed. </p><p>It was just his luck, to be the eldest son, forced to live his life donning a mask to conceal the bloodthirsty green floating in an inky black that hid behind them, or entrapped in particular cages crafted by one of the strongest Durasts, made especially for the demon that shared his every breath and laugh, a beast who barely laid dormant somewhere deep within until the last sliver of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. </p><p>Terror and monsters formed his every molecule, a bastard amalgamation composed of crimson staining his fingernails, of screams echoing in his mind, of maiming his closest friends, the images of their mouths gasping in betrayal playing behind closed eyelids, guilt poisoning his gut with every glance at the scars they showed with pride. It never failed to be a fast reminder of when the night claimed his mind and body and the day became nothing short of a cellophane facade. </p><p>He was the son as golden as the crown atop his head, a descendant of heroes who tamed even the wildest of beasts. It was unfortunate, then, that he was also the darkness of what once was, a remnant of an evil long believed to have been vanquished and left in the past.</p><p>He was a nightmare, so he called himself Dream.</p><p>It was only fitting that he felt eternally trapped in some sort of daze.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sundown - Techno</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The wind’s whistling choir roared in Techno’s ears, freezing the blood in his veins and the sweat down his neck. The click was quiet, a whisper in comparison, and yet it bounced from shadow to shadow like an animal rushing towards them from the trees in the dead of night.</p><p>It was all he could do to keep his hands still and steady and relaxed. It was all he could do to let the witch come out, lest before a <em> druskelle </em>.</p><p>“What are you doing.”</p><p>The boys turned around slowly, hands raised in surrender to the guard who had caught them in their escape into the cold winter before them.</p><p>It would be a lie to say that it wasn’t difficult to tell apart the men who protected Fjerda and its gods with their lives. Blue eyes and blond hair peeked out from under his hooded black uniform, completed with the stature of a man who was trained for his position for most — if not all — of his life. From behind him, the prince could feel the musician tense as the soldier’s <em> isenulf </em> made her appearance with teeth bared; the hound’s white coat as beautifully overgrown and wild as the clouds that he’d once seen dot the skies on his rare trips overseas with his father.</p><p>“We, uh,” Wilbur began, the beginnings of a tall tale being spun from his lips; one that surely would spill blood the minute it floated into the air.</p><p>With a sigh, Techno lifted his hood gently, letting the soft flames around him light up his familiar face.</p><p>“Stand down, soldier.” His eyes met the <em>druskelle’s</em> as he spoke, watching as the other’s widened in surprise at the sight that must have certainly been a bizarre one to behold; a royal in a cloak of seal skin and lemming hide, stood side by side with a commoner no less, outside in a freezing blizzard cold.</p><p>And the tone of his voice only seemed to convey as much.</p><p>“M’Lord?”</p><p>Yet it was the prince who was taken aback by the sound that escaped the throat of the guard as he let his rifle down. He’d expected something razor-edged and blunt like that of a blade and instead received… something softer in return. It held the sharpness of thorns that decorated the southern flowers which gave him his name. It carried the bluntness of a palm, something that could bring pain — red and hot — across one’s cheek, but also provide comfort if he so chose.</p><p>“Yes.” His reply hid his surprise well, under the role of the prince he had learned so expertly throughout his years along with the commanding tone of the higher ranks in which he was forced into. “And as your crown prince, I must now swear you to secrecy as for now you have seen us, and have jeopardized our quest and undertaking.”</p><p>“<em>Our </em> quest?”</p><p>The <em>druskelle’s </em>chuckle was good humoured, a reaction that Techno couldn’t help but flinch from, being so unexpected and different from the norm. </p><p>“You and who?” He gestured to Wilbur, standing behind the prince. “The village bard? A storyteller? Why would you ever need a vulnerable civilian and not a soldier from your vast army?”</p><p>“Hey now,” the musician began indignantly, but the Rose of Fjerda stopped him before he could put a foot forward.</p><p>“Wilbur’s task is to fulfill a role that no <em> druskelle </em>is able to without arousing suspicion from our Ravkan friends.” Techno’s voice was a calm wave of patience that rivaled his desire to flee. The guard only scoffed in response.</p><p>“And what kind of role might that be?”</p><p>“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Wilbur snapped back.</p><p>“A guide,” the prince said, causing the hostile bard to stop and look at him in alarm, and the soldier to tilt his head in curiosity. “He is a guide. One that is able to bring me safely to the docks of Fjerda and beyond, to the foreign waters of Kerch, and from there, to find a discrete passage to Ravkan soil.”</p><p>“And why would you ever want to go to those forsaken lands, if you don’t mind me asking?” A ghost of a smile appeared on the lips of the stranger. “Surely not to seek refuge with the hell-beasts that reside there.”</p><p>Techno’s easy laugh masked the sweat that covered his knuckles.</p><p>“No,” He could not speak more truer words. “However, I must admit, there is something we seek in Os Alta, in the name of my father.” </p><p>“And what might that be, may I ask?” The prince could tell that the guard was beginning to humour him, the child, the prince of nineteen years. His lips twitched down in irritation as he lowered his voice.</p><p>“We seek the death of Ravka’s sun child.”</p><p><em> “Techno!” </em> He could hear Wilbur hiss behind him, grabbing his sleeve, panic creeping into his voice. The Rose pulled his arm away, and suppressed the rising urge to swipe the air from the commoner’s lungs.</p><p>But the blond simply laughed, a sound so hearty and full of humour, of a joke well executed, that landed onto the target with the accuracy of a hawk, that was genuine in the way that Techno was not -- at least in his own eyes.</p><p>It was only when the sound was greeted with the snow pelting his uniform did the man pause, looking closer at the deadpan expression on the royal’s face. At the way the prince’s bright eyes lacked the humour that he must’ve expected lay beneath, like he was staring right at the gods themselves without even knowing.</p><p>“You can’t be serious.” The soldier’s disbelief was all too clear, even if the wind stole his voice away or the snow covered the open-mouthed shock playing plainly on his face. “That-- My lord, has it not occurred to you that you are most certainly walking yourself to your own death trap, an assassination of your own doing?”</p><p>“If it means the death of my equal, then so be it.”</p><p>“If these are the words of the commoner, or God forbid those witches or the Saints--” He began, fingers twitching towards the trigger once more. Behind Techno, Wilbur’s sharp breath told him that they were perhaps both thinking the same thing.</p><p>“They were my Father’s--” He began, taking a step forward, prepared to defend his ally, when the <em> druskell </em> spoke.</p><p>“Take me with you.”</p><p>The words so unexpected caused the prince to falter.</p><p>“<em>What? </em>”</p><p>“Take me with you,” The blond continued, his hand relaxing. “I’m also a soldier better equipped with the knowledge on restraining the Grisha folk than you are, if you don’t mind me speaking frankly, my lord, my track record you may perhaps find astonishing. Perhaps if you ask my mentor--”</p><p>“Why are you telling us this?” Wilbur interrupted, with annoyance, dark eyes glaring from underneath his hood when Techno turned to glance back at him.</p><p>“Because you have no guard.” He shot back. “Both of you are unarmed, and are planning to enter enemy territory during perhaps the biggest war Fjerda has seen since the era of the Shadow Fold. Not only that, one of you is the <em> sole heir to the throne </em>, whose death would mean an exchange of families once our king meets his end. Have you thought of that?”</p><p>The Rose of Fjerda studied the soldier, small puffs of smoke trailing the outburst from underneath his hood, his heartbeat fast and deafening in the Heartrender’s ears. But with every word of concern, he couldn’t help but imagine the man before him binding his wrists together, the flame of a pyre underneath his feet. He could too easily hear the same warm voice turn harsh with hate, spitting the accursed word in his face as he died;</p><p>“<em>Drüsje. </em>” </p><p>Witch.</p><p>He wanted to run. He wanted to knock the man out. And as the power inside him rushed eagerly to meet his demands, he glanced aside to hide his gritted teeth, wishing only for this witchery <em> out </em>.</p><p>“We’re well prepared, don’t worry.” He said instead, turning back to the guard with a confidence he didn’t feel. “A party of two can pass much easier amongst the crowd than a party of three. Three draws attention, and three is easier to find.”</p><p>The soldier’s blue eyes squinted, and the prince could practically feel the distrust radiating off of him in waves, analyzing and picking apart every single lie he’s ever told.</p><p>But then finally, with a small huff, the blond smiled.</p><p>“Well then, I cannot force your decisions, my lord.” He said lightly. “May <em> Djel </em> watch over your journey.”</p><p>Techno hesitated. There had to be more to this. A trap. Something.</p><p>“Come on, Techno.” Wilbur hissed, turning to leave. And with no other choice, the aristocrat took one last uncertain look back at the guard before trailing behind the bard from a world so far away.</p><p>He did not see the blond watch their figures disappear into the blizzard, his smile disappearing as soon as they were out of his sight. He did not see the <em> isenulf </em> come to sit by the man’s side with a whimper, and the man’s hand reached out to pet his companion for comfort. </p><p>Techno did not see Phil as he sank his hand into his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys.</p><p>He didn’t hear him as he toyed with them, let them jingle as his lips parted and the words escaped his breath and into the world beyond;</p><p>“<em>Jer molle pe oonet. Enel mörd je nej afva trohem verret. </em>”</p><p>
  <em> I have been made to protect you. Only in death will I be kept from this oath. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! We hope you enjoyed!</p><p>if you want to see our stupidity live, follow @Cococapes and @electricwaves_ on twitter</p></blockquote></div></div>
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